


The Carnival of Flesh

by steveelotaku



Category: Hellraiser & Related Fandoms, Hellraiser (Comics), Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Clowns, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveelotaku/pseuds/steveelotaku
Summary: Tabitha Grace is a college student haunted by a music box melody in her dreams.  Every night, the same song plays, and every night she is awoken by the sight of a bloody, screaming corpse.  Struggling to move on from an abusive boyfriend and the judgment of her classmates, her only comfort is her punk rock girl friend, Alex. When out shopping one night with Alex, an encounter with a mysterious old man will change her life forever as a certain puzzle box finds its way into her hands...playing the melody that has haunted her dreams since childhood.(Warning: This story deals with sexual abuse.)





	1. Dad, What'd You Leave Behind For Me?

Tabitha remembered a song in her dreams.  It was a sweet song, a beautiful music box tune, but one far more complex than any usual children’s song.  It seemed to be almost like a dark symphony, one as sweet as the dew on black tulips in the morning.

                Tabitha hated the song.

                It was calm, it was peaceful.  It lulled her softly, drew her in with promises of peace and rest, it drew her closer with whispered pleasures.  Every time she heard it, she felt herself grow wet with need.  Her body would tremble with perverse delight.

                Every time the song ended, she would see a screaming, bloody corpse.

                Then she would awake to the sun through her curtains, and begin the day anew.  Scarcely stopping to put on slippers, she crossed the cold floors of her dorm bathroom, stripped off her t-shirt and panties, and let the hot water of the shower wash away the phantom blood that clung to her from her nightmares.  She would use pomegranate-scented shampoo and then finish off her shower by using Nair to shave off what body hair she’d acquired.  Razors were something she hated using. 

                The other girls would come and go from the showers, never saying anything, but always looking at her, staring.  She’d turn her head away and pretend they weren’t there.

                She would sit on her cot until it was time for class, every day, only changing position to do another piece of schoolwork, all while a clock ticked away.  Her evenings were spent mostly alone, her address book full of shredded pages and her phone empty of contacts.  Sometimes, her one friend, Alex Summers, would visit her.  She would bring over a movie and they’d sit watching it.  Sometimes Tabitha would laugh and smile, and Alex would always smile and laugh with her.

                One night, she went out shopping with Alex.

                They spent time in the thrift stores and vintage clothing shops down on the bad side of town, a place where broken windows patched with tinfoil mingled with shuttered shops; where church missions shared room with strip clubs and love was bought and sold.

                “You ever thought about your own place?” Alex asked.  “You pretty much hate your dorm and everyone around you.  I think I’m the only person you speak to.”

                “I don’t hate everybody,” Tabitha replied.  “Everyone hates me.  They look at me like a leper.”

                “Why?  You’re sweet,” said Alex.  “I bet your house would be pretty.  A room with little black dresses and Victorian china and a music box or two.”

                “Sounds good except the last one.  I hate music boxes.”

                Alex looked puzzled.

                “Why are you always listening to them whenever we go out to an antique shop or whatever?”

                Tabitha sighed.

                “There’s…well, this is going to sound crazy.  There’s this song in my nightmares every night, a music box tune, one I’ve definitely heard before.  And so I’m trying to find the one that plays it.  Maybe then I can remember where it was from, and why I keep associating it with a bloody, screaming corpse.”

                Alex smoothed out her denim vest, adjusting a button or two pinned to it, and shrugged.

                “Tabitha, you’ve got some serious issues, you know that?  Ever since your breakup you’ve been super withdrawn.  What’s happening?  You know you can talk to me, right?”

                Tabitha hid her face.

                “He hurt you, didn’t he?  I could kill him,” Alex continued.  “I’d really like to, if you still have his address…”

                “No need,” Tabitha sighed.  “He got hit by a train.”

                “Shit, girl.  Nasty way to go out.”

                “He was a nasty person,” Tabitha said quietly.

                As they walked down the filthy, wet streets, dirt and grime running like blood through the gutters, rats scampering into sewer grates away from speeding cars, Tabitha noticed a gnarled old man walking nearby.

                “Has that man been following us this whole time?” she asked.

                “Probably not,” Alex said, brushing back her hair idly.  “He’s probably just looking for some old bottles to turn in for deposit.”

                They walked for some time, the steam rising from the manhole covers in the road, as a fetid stench of sewage and desperation reeked from the street.  Above them, the gleaming towers of the city stretched upward, like the fingers of some lesser god of concrete and steel rising up from the hell it had been buried in.  Lights glimmered in the hazy mist of the night sky, shining forth from the windows of office buildings where the men and women of the city were working late, working on blackmail, screwing their bosses, cheating taxes, or else just drowning in the futile miseries of leftover reports that would be shredded at the end of the month.

                Passing by a shuttered video arcade, a faded FOR SALE sign in the window, Tabitha stopped and caught her breath.  Alex waited, flicking her lighter and beginning to smoke a joint.

                The old man, however, had caught up.

                “Excuse me, young Miss—“

                Tabitha jumped with a scream.  She whipped around, a fist readied, but relented when she saw the old man’s face.  He was old and gnarled, to be sure, but he seemed to not intend any harm.

                “Are you Tabitha Grace?  I’ve been looking for you for some time.”

                “I am,” Tabitha admitted, nervous.  “Who wants to know?”

                “Forgive me for startling you,” said the man, adjusting his rumpled suit and tattered hat.  “I’m Phineas Merchant.  I was a friend of your father’s, before his death.  I would have called you, but I’m afraid your stepfather didn’t want me to be in contact with you.  I understand now he’s not in a position to stop it, however.”

                “If by that you mean that he’s rotting six feet under, yes,” Tabitha sighed.  “What is it that my father wanted you to do?”

                “Your father had specified that you were to inherit a musical puzzle box,” Phineas said calmly.  “Your stepfather, however, coveted the box for himself.  I warned him not to take it.  But you know how people like him are…”

                “I don’t like music boxes, generally,” Tabitha said.  “But if my father wanted me to have it, I’ll take it…it’s the least I can do for his memory.”

                The man drew a small golden puzzle box from the pocket of his coat.  He also took out a letter, written in a hasty scrawl with an old ink pen, and two yellowing pieces of paper.

                “These are everything he left for you.  By the way, he was quite specific about one thing.”

                “What’s that?” Tabitha asked.

                “If you open the box, have the tickets with you.”

                She turned to Alex.

                “What does that even—“

                But before she could ask more of the old man, he had vanished into thin air.

                Alex shook her head.

                “Tabi-cat, either this weed is really fucking strong, or that guy just vanished into thin air.”

                Tabitha twitched.

                “Don’t call me that, Alex.”

                Alex froze, surprised at the response.

                “I’m sorry.  I forgot that _he_ used to call you that.  Bastard.”

                Tabitha shivered, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck and holding the folds of her black dress close.

                Alex pushed her glasses up, her bleached-blonde hair gleaming under the lamplight.  She threw the joint in a nearby ashtray and sighed.

                “I’ll take you back home and make you dinner,” she said, putting a hand on Tabitha’s shoulder.  “Everything’s gonna be okay.  Maybe we can even solve that puzzle box.”

                “I was gonna ask if you could help me,” Tabitha said.  “I don’t want to do it alone.  And there _are_ two tickets.”

                The two girls wandered off into the night, uncertain of what waited ahead.


	2. And I Say Welcome To The Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The box is found.  
> The box is opened.  
> The show begins.

                By the time they made it back to Tabitha’s dorm room, it was about midnight.  Alex had gone into her room next door and gotten out some canned meat which she was frying up into burgers in a skillet on Tabitha’s hot plate.

                “I tell ya, Tabitha…you gotta eat more.  You’re looking pale as a sheet, and it’s not just those uber-goth black clothes you wear.  I mean, like, get even some McDonalds once in a while.”

                “I’d get fat,” Tabitha sighed, looking down her arms.

                Alex reached over and took her arm.  Under the pale light of the room, she noticed faint lines.

                “Good.  No new ones,” the punk chick said, massaging the old scars.  “I can’t believe you were cutting, Tabitha…I mean, how bad does the pain have to be to do that?”

                “Just bad enough,” Tabitha sighed.  “Bad enough when your boyfriend keeps a whole book on your weight and your clothes.  Bad enough when he tells you you’re his pet project and forces you to strip naked when he wants.”

                “Jesus Christ, what a creep.  Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner?  Fucker should have been in jail and you know it.  Hell, I’d have just straight up killed him.”

                “Because I was alone, Alex.  Until I met you I was going to kill myself and forget it ever happened that way.  But then he fell in front of a train, and I never had to worry about him again.  I almost laughed, you know?  When I saw his body splattered all over the rails…god, all I wanted to do was piss on it.  Or join him.   I didn’t know which.”

                Alex turned off the pan and sat with Tabitha.

                “Can I give you a hug?” Alex asked.

                “Thought you didn’t do hugs,” Tabitha said, darkly.

                “I do for friends who need them,” Alex smiled.

                “Sure.”

                Alex pulled Tabitha close, her tanned skin and ripped denim almost a blanket around the rail-thin, pale girl.  She held the hug for about a minute until Tabitha stopped shaking.  A soft sound of acoustic music filled the room from Tabitha’s speakers— _KISS Unplugged._

“Didn’t figure you for a KISS fan, Tabi-ca—err, Tabitha.  God, I need a new nickname for you.”

                Tabitha giggled.

                “It doesn’t hurt quite as much when _you_ say it, but...I’d really like it if you came up with something new.”

                “Okay, who’s your favourite KISS member?  Please, don’t say Gene Simmons.”

                “Paul Stanley.”

                Alex grinned.

                “The hottest member.  Okay, Starchild, you just got your new nickname.  I’m gonna call you Starchild.”

                Tabitha blushed.

                “I’d like that…”

                “You’re my star, okay?  I’m gonna be here. Always.”

                Deep down, Tabitha hoped that would be the case.  In her arms, safe and warm, Tabitha felt her lips tingle.  She wanted to just straight up kiss her.  Right now would be perfect, but she couldn’t.  Alex was too good for her, she knew, and she seemed to lean towards guys.  After all, she’d slept with a few rockers on campus, and while she was friendly and almost flirty with her, it didn’t look like Tabitha/Alex was ever going to happen, not even in her wildest dreams.

                Alex broke off the hug and reached for a bag of rolls that Tabitha had bought the previous night. 

                “Good, they’re still fresh,” she said, feeling them.  “Got a knife?  I need to slice’em open, I can’t tear dinner rolls open for shit.”

                “Over there,” Tabitha said, pointing to the drawer.

                Inside the drawer, Alex found a skull-handled knife with a long serrated blade.

                “Shit, girl!  This is fucking hardcore.  You use this to eat dinner each night?”

                “Yeah.  It was my boyfriend’s.  He was so convinced he was tough as hell and he always said he’d cut up anyone who tried to touch me with it.  He wouldn’t let anyone touch it when he was alive.  So I’m pissing his dead spirit off by using it to make toast and cut up meat for sandwiches.”

                “You might be a skinny goth nerd, but holy hell are you the queen of petty revenge.  I love it,” Alex said, grinning.  “What did you do with whatever else he left you?”

                “I burned all his clothes and threw his sex toys in a dumpster.  I sent his search history to the FBI, and I went and posted pony pictures all over his alt-right forums and said that he was a small-dicked loser who secretly jacked off to pictures of Marx.”

                “And yet you were scared of him?”

                Tabitha’s smile faded.

                “It’s easier to hurt the dead than the living, Alex…that’s why I break so easily.  I’ve been basically dead my whole life.  I’ve never _lived_.”

                “Then we’re going to get you living,” Alex replied.  “Let’s solve that puzzle box after dinner and then we’ll plan some great shit.  Why don’t we go see Rob Zombie in a few weeks?”

                Tabitha’s eyes widened.

                “I’d love that!”

                “Then let’s go.  And I’m buying the tickets.  You’ve paid for enough of my tequila shots.  This is clearing my tab.  Plus, then I can get you totally dolled up.  You may be officially goth, but your outfits just scream ‘Wednesday Addams, church youth group’.”

                Tabitha giggled.

                The two began to eat the burgers, stopping only to get some mayo out from Tabitha’s mini-fridge.

                “This is pretty good,” Tabitha said, between bites.  “You gotta teach me how to cook sometime.  I can’t do anything but sandwiches and frozen stuff.”

                “I’m not much of a domestic,” Alex chuckled.

                “A domestic what?” Tabitha quipped.

                “Get out.  You’ve done a _Rocky Horror_ live show?”

                “Before I met the bastard.  First and only time I’ve felt comfortable in lingerie.”

                Both girls talked a while longer, finishing their burgers and pitching back after a couple tequila shots each.

                “Let’s do the box now.  Grab your ticket,” Alex said.

                Each girl took a ticket.  On the tickets was written:

                “CARNIVAL OF FLESH ADMIT ONE.”

                “Carnival of Flesh?” asked Tabitha.

                “Maybe it was some old metal band your dad liked.  He seemed like a pretty cool dude.”

                Within moments they had the box in their hands.  Soon, pieces began to slide away and move, and the music box within began to play.  It began to soothe Tabitha, her eyes starting to glaze over in a mix of fear and arousal. 

                “Are you okay, Tabitha?” asked Alex.

                “M-maybe we should stop…” Tabitha replied, but her body had no intention of stopping.  She continued to solve it with Alex.

                _It’s just a puzzle box, after all,_ she thought. 

“This tune is really pretty, but…off,” Alex said.  “Like that one in your dreams, I guess.”

                “It _is_ the one from my dreams…this must have been my dad’s at some point.  I just wish I could remember why I have nightmares about it…”

                Tabitha’s dress had ridden up slightly and her grey panties were visibly wet.  Alex looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

                “Hey.  Starchild.  You doing okay?  You’re spacing out weirdly…that, and I think you’re getting off on this.  Not that this isn’t a seriously cool tune, but I’ve never literally creamed myself over a song.”

                The box had lifted up totally and was one press away from being solved. 

                “Do this with me,” Tabitha begged, her eyes wide.

                “Okay, Tabitha.  For you,” Alex agreed, and together they pressed down the box, forming a cross-like shape.  The music box began to ring out low, tolling notes, as if from some distant churchyard bell.  Both girls drew closer together, waiting for the loud ringing to stop.  They clutched their tickets, which glowed warmly in their hands.

                For a moment, everything went black.

                When they awakened, it was in a darkened alley that reeked of sewage.

                “Ugh, my head…” Alex muttered.  “Who was ringing a bell next to it for an hour?”

                “Mine too,” Tabitha sighed.  “Why are my panties wet?”

                “Nothing I did,” Alex quipped, but it fell flat.

                Any attempt at humour failed them when they saw a vast, dark road ahead, leading to a glowing carnival in the distance, a nightmarish calliope playing the music box tune.

                “Fuck, where are we?” Tabitha said, catching Alex off guard.

                “You just dropped the f-bomb.  Shit.  Things _are_ messed up,” Alex opined.  “But I got no clue.  New Jersey?   One minute we were in your room, then we solved that puzzle box, and now…”

                “I believe I might be of assistance,” a voice spoke, causing the two girls to nearly jump out of their skin. 

                “Jesus Christ!”

                “Nope,” said the voice.  “Not down here.”

                A figure stepped into the light.  He was clad from the neck down in black leather robes, and what appeared to be the tattered remains of a seersucker shirt.  It bore an uncanny resemblance, however, to rotted flayed skin.  Tabitha thanked God she had a cold and couldn’t smell.  His face was studded with broken pieces of carnival glass, placed in such a way to resemble clown paint.  Atop his head was a straw boater hat.

                “Who are you?!” exclaimed Tabitha.

                “I’m the Barker,” the mutilated man explained.  “This way to the Carnival of Flesh.  You do have your tickets, right?  The master is waiting for you both.  He’s been waiting a long time.  Oh, and one piece of advice?  If you hear his nickname, don’t say it.  It really pisses him off.  But otherwise, enjoy the Carnival, kiddos.”

                He extended a hand, and the girls handed over their tickets.

                “Yep, we haven’t had two girls like you for a long time.  No sir.”

                “But where are we?” asked Alex.  “This sure doesn’t look like home.”

                “You ever go to Sunday School, kid?” the Barker asked.

                “Nope,” Alex deadpanned.  “Tabitha, did you?”

                “Once.”

                The Barker sighed.

                “Well, you know the place where all the good people go and Saint Peter’s at the gate waiting for ya?  Well, this ain’t that place.  Think the opposite.”

                “You mean—“

                “Yep.  Welcome to Hell, kids.  Enjoy your stay.  ‘Course, there’s a way out or two.  These tickets…they’re gonna help.  I get the feeling the master doesn’t really want to keep you here.  He’s had enough trouble with unwanted guests as is.  But I’m spoiling the fun.  Go on and enjoy the Carnival.  The answers you seek, Tabitha, are contained therein.”

                Tabitha shivered.  Alex took her arm.

                “Come on, Alex,” Tabitha shivered.  “Sooner we get through this Carnival, sooner we can go home.”

                “Can we really trust the guy who’s wearing an old-timey shirt made outta some guy’s stomach?”

                “Probably not,” Tabitha said.  “But it’s not like we have a choice.”

                The two girls made their way to the Carnival gate.  At the entrance, another leather-clad man was at the gates with a lever.

                “Tabitha and Alex?” he asked.

                “That’s us,” the girls said in near-unison.

                “Yeah, we were told you’d be coming.  Listen, just…one piece of advice.  Don’t get too attached to your past.  Trust me when I say there’s some shit you’re better off not knowing.  The Master, the Hell Priest, he’s looking for you.  Be careful what you say, and be even more careful about what _he_ says.”

                “Thank you,” Tabitha replied, as sweetly as possible, clearly disturbed by the fishhooks holding the man’s eyes open.

                “Told ’em I’d keep an eye open,” the man quipped as they entered.  “I mean, what else _can_ I do?”

                Ahead of them, the Carnival stretched out for seeming miles.

                “Alex, I’ve got a feeling we aren’t in Kansas anymore…”

                The road ahead was indeed yellow, but it wasn’t brick.

                It was bone.


	3. Agents Of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sinner suffers.  
> The cards are dealt.  
> And a new vision swirls in the crystal mists...

In the centre of a darkened room, a man lay naked and bound with chains and hooks.  His cock strained against the chastity belt he wore, the inside of which was studded with nails and screws.  He had long ago stopped screaming.  There was no point.  Instead, his tears had run until they would run no more.  Now, he was unblinking, unspeaking, and unthinking as his torturers did their work.

                The Female was there, always, it seemed.  She would run over his body with her sickle, letting the cold metal ease the pain of his fevered flesh before plunging it in and rending it asunder.  She would sometimes, when she felt in a good mood, undo his chastity belt and let his tortured cock free. 

                “Does it feel good to be free?” she would ask, and he would always nod yes.

                “You don’t deserve freedom,” she would always reply.  “For you took advantage of your freedom in life.  You were given the keys to the kingdom and yet you used them to bury yourself in the basest of pleasures.  What is your pleasure?”

                “Women,” he had said once.

                “Liar,” the cenobite had spat, slashing his left eye out.  As its ruined remains poured down his face, gradually healing back up as slowly and painfully as possible, he cried out.

                “Girls!  I like girls!”

                “Very good,” she said, gently stroking his shaft.  “How young?”

                “As young as possible…I like a good 12 year old…any younger and they haven’t got tits yet…”

                “You are a disgusting creature,” she muttered.  “You don’t even have short lifespan as an excuse like the perverts and depraved souls of centuries past.  No, you knew you would live a long life.  Or rather, you thought you would.  And now, here you are.  You haven’t had a good fuck in a long time, have you?”

                “N-no…” he cried.  The bleeding wounds all over his body wept like the tears of his victims.

                “Fuck me, then,” she smirked coldly, positioning her throat wound to his tip.  She took him inside, letting him gasp faintly in pleasure before pressing on the wires inside of her neck.  Their tips pierced through the head of his member.

                More screams.

                “To defile a child like you did is a crime enough…as for who you did it to, that is _far_ worse.”

                “Enough!” called a voice from across the room, powerful and full of command.  “While I appreciate your thirst for punishment, Sister, I have other plans for him.  Rest assured, when all is done, I will give him back to you.  But Leviathan has purposes…and so have I.  And who am I to deny our god?”

                A tall silhouette fell over the Female, a silhouette with pins driven into its skull.  She knelt reverently in response.

                “As you command, Priest.”

                --

                “This place is a maze,” complained Tabitha.  “I have no idea where to go.”

                “Maybe there’s a map,” said Alex.  “I mean, if this is Hell and there’s a Master, maybe someone knows where to go and wrote it down.”

                “Who’s this Master, anyway?” Tabitha said, looking around.  “Lucifer?”

                “The Master?” asked a voice.  “Oh, not Lucifer.  He’s far away, he is.  We don’t truck with Lucifer.  He’s trapped by his own miseries anyway.  The Master might answer to him, but we dare not ask.”

                “Quite right,” said another voice, coming from seemingly the same place.  “The Master, he’s the Priest. The Hell Priest.  He’s got a nickname—“

                “That we don’t dare mention,” finished the other voice.

                The two girls whipped around and saw a pair of conjoined twins, crammed into an extra-large leather robe.  They were joined at the shoulder and hip, and both of their heads were joined together by a twist of flesh.

                The girls screamed.

                “Really,” said one head.  “It’s quite tiresome when they do that.”

                “What,” asked the other, “the screaming?”

                “Yes,” the head said.  “They’re not even being tortured.”

                “Mind you,” the other head said, “I do sense a kinky streak in them both.”

                “The punk or the goth moreso?”

                “The punk’s sexuality is overt, but the goth hides it behind a delicate face.”

                “Shut up, both of you!” Tabitha screamed.  “I just want to figure out why I’m here and how the fuck I get home!  I’m not kinky, and I’m not some sexual plaything to be tortured!”

                “My, we’ve hit a nerve,” said one.

                “Indeed, brother.  Perhaps, instead, we should offer some assistance?”

                “Indeed.  You are looking for a map, yes?  Try the Fortune Teller.  You can find her two booths down from us.  She can read your fate…and provide you a complimentary map.  It’s the least we can do.”

                “Thank you,” said Alex.

                “Thank you as well,” said Tabitha, twitching.  “Sorry about the outburst, it’s just—“

                “Oh, we know.  You are in Hell, after all.  Word travels fast.”

                Tabitha and Alex made their way down the bone-paved street, past a stall selling hooks and chains, and found their way to a small tent marked FORTUNE TELLER.  From inside the tent, they could smell fine oils and incense burning, filling the air with a thousand sickly sweet scents. 

                Stepping inside, they were pleased to find their feet on soft carpeting rather than harsh bone.  The inside of the tent was pleasantly lit with candles and braziers.  At the centre of the room was a table with a crystal ball and a deck of tarot cards.

                “Hello?” called out Tabitha, looking around.

                A cloud of smoke appeared, and from it stepped the Fortune Teller.

                She was a Romani woman, or at least, she had been; from the dark skin of her back sprouted a massive wheel, where her bones were fused and racked.  Her arms were connected to the wheel by chains, and she wore a scarf over her mouth that was just sheer enough to reveal that her lips had been cut off.  Her head was bare, but in the centre of her forehead, a gash had opened up, revealing a third eye.  Both of her ears were pierced with three rings each.  Another golden ring sat in her nose, two chains connected to it and her neck.  She wore a leather bikini top, with beaded tassels hanging from it; below her waist was a leather skirt, slit all the way up the side, exposing skinless legs.

                “Welcome, travellers…I’ve been expecting you.  Which of you would like your fortune told first?”

                “I’ll go,” offered Tabitha.  “I need to know why I’m in Hell.”

                The Fortune Teller took her hand, and began to examine the lines of her palm.

                “Hmm…there is great tragedy in your life, that much is clear…I’ll skip the delicate aspects of the palm reading and move straight onto the cards.”

                With one deft movement she tossed the cards in the air, and they landed on the table, three cards separating themselves from the pack and lying face down.  Three more cards spat themselves out from below the three that had appeared on the table.

                “First of all, your past.”

                The cards turned over.

                “The Tower,” she read. “How appropriate.  It means that in your past, you had no control over what happened to you.  Tossed around by uncaring forces, you found yourself helpless.  The card associated with it today…is the Ten of Swords.  You had to survive.  You did what little you could, but it is simply saying that sometimes there is nothing you can do.”

                Tabitha raised an eyebrow.

                “You’re saying all that happened to me—“

                “—was inevitable.  You couldn’t have known it was going to happen.”

                Tabitha frowned, but let the Fortune Teller continue.

                “Next, your present.  The Star.  Oh, you are a lucky girl indeed.  You’re about to meet something divine.  The Master, perhaps.  If you’re lucky, you might even meet _his_ master.  The great Leviathan.  And with this card comes the Eight of Swords.  You’re about to face a test.  I know the Master…his tests are the stuff of legend.  Pray that you can pass it.”

                “And here I was dreading my literature exam in a week,” Tabitha quipped drily.  “I’ll never complain about having to do MLA citations after this ever again.”

                The Fortune Teller smiled.

                “Your suffering is delicious…but let’s see what your future holds.”

                The cards popped up.

                “The Lovers…and the Seven of Coins.  Interesting… _very_ interesting.  Good things may be coming your way.  Hope, even.  I am happy to hear it.”

                “Why’s that?” asked Tabitha.  “Thought you were big into the whole suffering thing, like everyone _else_ here.”

                “Oh, I am.  I have a few people to flay alive after I’m finished telling you two your futures…”

                “The Lovers.  You are about to make a difficult choice, Tabitha.  You have passion in your heart for someone close to you, someone you desire more than even you can know.  However, you still hold tight to someone, someone dead and gone.  You cannot serve two masters.  The other card is the Seven of Coins—your power is growing.  Those around you are taking notice of you and more and more.  If you’ve got people to prove wrong…now’s the time.”

                “Thank you,” said Tabitha, not remotely sure what to make of the reading.  “Hey, Alex, you going to do this too?”

                “I don’t think so,” Alex said.  “Like Han Solo once said, ‘Never tell me the odds.’”

                “A gambler,” the Fortune Teller laughed.  “You’re a cute one, alright.  No cards or palms for you.  But I’ll show you a tiny glimpse into the future.  With my crystal ball. Just peer right in.”

                Alex obeyed, caught a tiny glimpse of a vision, and rocketed back in her chair, her face red with embarrassment.

                “T-Thank you,” the punk girl stammered.  “Now, some Siamese twins were telling us about a map you might have?”

                “Oh yes,” the Fortune Teller replied.  “Here you go, my children.  One for each of you.”

                 Two scrolls of vellum appeared magically in their hands.

                “This will guide you through the Carnival of Flesh.  Be sure to enjoy yourselves here.  Remember, you’re not here to be tortured…but you still will suffer.”

                As they left, Tabitha stopped Alex.

                “Hey Alex, what did you see?  You looked pretty red in the face…”

                “N-Nothing really!  I’m just kinda allergic to too much perfume, and like…okay, I saw a vision saying I’m gonna stick with you forever.  Friends forever, y’know?  Nothing you didn’t already know.”

                As they walked away, Tabitha felt that Alex was almost certainly lying about, or at least hiding something about the vision.

                But what it was, she couldn’t say.


	4. Send In The Clowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perverse puppet play poisons and preys on Tabitha's tattered heart.  
> Deadly doctors are decisively dismissed.  
> And a rest is had...

“Step right up and be amazed!”

                Another voice was calling Tabitha and Alex over.  It was a thick, husky voice, with a hint of slime in its throat.  When the two girls looked over, they saw a fat, bald man wearing sunglasses beckoning them over.  He wore a leather robe, like everyone else, but his stomach was bare, an open wound visible on it as it was pulled open by hooks.

                “Come in, come in!” he called again.  “This way to the Puppet Show!  Lifelike recreations of this world’s strangest lives.  We have a _very_ special show today, brothers and sisters!  A rare glimpse at the decadence and tragedy of a private life!  Starring our own Punch and Judy.”

                Tabitha walked into the theatre, Alex holding her hand.  The entire place was filled with more and more mutilated, leather-clad figures, but there were two special seats in the midst of them marked TABITHA and ALEX.

                “So glad you could join us,” said a couple of them.  “We so rarely get guests who are not…canvasses.”

                Tabitha could only think that she didn’t want to know what that meant, given the appearance of everyone around her.  Alex merely thought that while she could get behind piercings, these people took it to an extreme.

                The theatre stage was in fact a large puppet theatre, with curtains of leather and red velvet. The stage itself was constructed from stone.  Ancient demonic runes were carved into the base of the stage, and the whole thing was lit by old-fashioned candle footlights.

                An old ragtime piano was dragged out, the notes ringing out off-key, making a sound uncannily like blades slicing through flesh, pitched to various notes.  As the sickly melody played, two puppets jangled down from the ceiling.  One was grotesquely painted clown in a black leather jacket and camouflage, and the other was a sweet, doll-like girl in a black dress.  Tabitha immediately squirmed upon seeing them.

                “They look just like me and my boyfriend…” she murmured.

                “Mr. Punch, I love you!” said the Tabitha puppet, clinging to the grotesque clown.  “I’d do anything for you.”

                “Then take your clothes off, Judy, so I can make sure you’re not getting fat, you pale little beta slut,” Mr. Punch said, to a hollow laugh track.

                The Tabitha puppet began crying tears of blood as she stripped naked, and it was only now that Tabitha realized that these puppets had once been living human beings.

                “Look at my body,” Judy said to the audience, as she danced.  “I hide it from the world because I’m ashamed of it.  But you’ll get a very special show, because my boyfriend wants it.”

                “Not so bold!” the Punch puppet admonished.  “You’ll have to be punished.  You’ve put on weight.”

                “But I only had a glass of water!”  protested Judy, to the laughter of the audience.

                “Even so, you must be punished.  Only I get to put things in you.”

                And with that, Mr. Punch pulled out a large stick and began beating Judy to a bloody pulp.  As if to add humour, Judy’s breasts inflated and bounced all over the place as silly clown noises played. Each time the stick hit her, she would moan and make silly noises.

                Tabitha threw up in her mouth.  Alex held her closer, gagging the whole time.

                “This is sick,” Alex protested.  “Guess we really are in Hell.”

                “I’ve had enough!” screamed the bloody Judy puppet.  “I’ve been using your knife to butter my bread this whole time, Mr. Punch!  And I’m going to let anyone I want near my pussy! Maybe I’ll let a girl, next.  And you won’t get to watch!”

                She grabbed the stick and shoved it up Mr. Punch’s ass, impaling him out through the mouth.  She then kicked him into the path of an oncoming toy train, splattering his guts all over the front row of the audience.  Gales of laughter erupted from the mutilated members of the macabre marionette theatre.

                “Now _that’s_ how you do it!” said Judy, laughing even as she cried the last drops of blood upon the stage.

                The entire assembled Cenobite audience applauded.

                Tabitha, meanwhile, had gone catatonic.  Her eyes stared for miles and her mind was beginning to black out.  Alex panicked and began tilting her head to the side, making sure no vomit could choke her.  She tried to resuscitate her with breath, but found herself struggling.

                “Is there a doctor in the house?”  Alex called out.

                A good ten presented themselves, all hideously mutilated.  They raised their blades menacingly.

                “Bad fucking idea, Alex,” she chastised herself, running out of the theatre.  On the way out she swore she saw two old men heckling the show from the balcony above.

                “That was the worst show I’ve ever seen!”

                “Terrible!  So obscene! So perverse!”

                “Vile stuff!  Nothing more corrupting.”

                “Same time tomorrow?”

                “Hell yes!”

                They laughed a croaking laugh as the doctors began to close in on Tabitha.

                A chattering noise, however, sent them scattering.

                From out of the shadows, a figure with a melted face and exposed teeth stood out, teeth chattering constantly.  It reached out a hand and drove back the audience with sheer presence.

                “Can you help her?” Alex asked, looking up.  She tried desperately to hide her fear.

                The chattering man gently stroked Tabitha’s head, putting her into a normal, restful sleep.

                As restful as Tabitha normally got, anyway.

                “Attention, my brothers and sisters,” boomed a voice over an unseen loudspeaker.  “There are two living guests among you, Tabitha and Alex.  They are here for the Carnival and for my purposes only.  If I find that _any_ of you have harmed them, I will make your suffering beyond any pain anyone has ever known.  But please, do give them a Hellish welcome.  Suffering is permissible; torture is not.  I want them alive and in one piece physically.  What you do mentally is none of my concern.  Your Priest has spoken.  Lord Leviathan is watching.”

                With that, no sign could be seen of the killer doctors.  The chattering man, too, had vanished into the crowd.

                “The Priest,” Alex muttered.  “That’s gotta be the boss-man around here.”

                She began to cry slightly.

                “Tabitha…damn it…please, be okay.”

                Unfolding the map she had with her, Alex considered her options.  They couldn’t go through the Carnival all at once, and not with Tabitha out like a light.  They needed a rest area, somewhere they could sleep…

                “HELLO, KIDDIES!” cackled a voice from behind Alex.

                “For fuck’s sake!  Learn how to say hi!” Alex snarled.

                 A clown had waddled up behind her, and was smiling.

                “The name’s Winky Dink.  I’m Lord Leviathan’s personal jester.  He told me you’d be coming.  Listen, I’m not supposed to be a nice guy, but this place gets too much pain sometimes.  There’s an old Cenobite sleeping quarters.  The Order of the Gash isn’t using it right now.  I’ll lead you to it.  We generally don’t sleep much, but when the Hell Priest has expected company, sometimes we gotta put ‘em up for the night, and I don’t mean in the crucifixion way for once.”

                “Thank you, Winky Dink,” Alex replied rolling her eyes.  “This Hell Priest…he’s in charge, right?”

                “Just below Lord Leviathan.  By the way, don’t ever call him the P-word.”

                “P-word?”

                “Pinhead,” he explained.  “He’s got a bunch of pins driven into his skull.  They’re kind of his badge of office.  Every Hell Priest gets them.  The latest guy hosting him isn’t so bad if you can get to talk to him, but good luck with that.  The Hell Priest tears souls apart.  And calling him ‘Pinhead’ is a one-way ticket to a slow, torturous death, nine times out of ten.”

                Winky Dink bid his goodbyes as they entered the stone house.  It was lit by a fire, and the beds were normal beds, ones that resembled Tabitha’s cot uncannily.

                Alex had only just finished tucking her friend in when she began to sleep herself, barely haing enough tim to roll into the cot beside Tabitha, softly muttering her name as she slept.


	5. American Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.  
> But a kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.  
> \--Batman Returns

                Morning came, or whatever passed for morning in Hell, at least.  It was hard to tell time in a place where it had effectively no meaning.  The air was somehow both warm and cool at the same time, like the feeling you get when your blood rushes to your legs after sitting for too long.  

                Tabitha had curled up into a ball during the night, and though she had awoken with a start, she had somehow remained in her fetal position the entire time.  The nightmare had come again, but this time she could see more.   She was in a circus tent, and she could see the corpse had white face paint, like a clown’s, before its flesh was ripped from its body.

                Alex didn’t sleep well either.  She was on her back, her arms and legs splayed out like she’d fallen a great height.  Her hair was a mess; though it was shorter than most girls she knew, and almost resembled a pompadour, it was so disheveled that her natural dark hair was visible underneath.  She’d let her glasses fall to the floor, but in some small miracle they had not broken.  The front of her black tank top was drenched with sweat, though she’d never put a blanket over herself.

                _I’m worrying too much_ , she thought, brushing her hair back into place.

                _Wait, what am I saying?  I’ve literally gone to Hell.  A Hell that’s full of leather-clad sadomasochists who think childhood trauma is hilarious and that getting flayed alive is both justifiable punishment and also good bedroom technique._

“Tabitha?” Alex called out, softly.  “Are you awake?”

                “Yes,” Tabitha said, her voice scarcely a whisper.  “I’m awake.”

                Alex sat up.

                “How are you?”

                “Scared,” Tabitha muttered, pulling her sheets around herself.  “I mean, look, Alex…I’m in Hell…how do you think I’m going to feel?  I’ve gone from my quiet, lonely bedroom, which I hated, mind you, to this glorified Cannibal Corpse album cover!”

                Alex held Tabitha once more.

                “We’re going to get through this,” she said calmly.  “So far, none of the demons have wanted to keep us here, minus the doctors.  And you saw what happened when that chattering guy came near.  They cleared off.  He must be pretty high-ranking, next to the Hell Priest, I’m guessing.  The Hell Priest must not want us dead or trapped here, considering he’s left us alone so far.”

                “I hope this Hell Priest is a reasonable guy,” Tabitha said, shivering.  “It’s not like we’ve met anyone truly reprehensible, except maybe those surgeons…but I’m still not exactly ready to invite any of these guys over for tea.”

                She blinked twice, shaking her head.

                “God, what happened to me last night?  I remember watching that horrible puppet show—“

                “You fainted,” Alex replied.  “I had to take you out.  One of those demon guys showed me to this place.  He looked a bit like a clown.  He said this was an old Cenobite house, belonging to some people called the Order of the Gash.  I’m guessing all these leather-clad demons are Cenobites.”

                “You must think I’m a wimp to have fainted at a puppet show,” Tabitha sighed.

                “Not at all,” Alex said.  “Like, this is Hell, and that was one seriously fucked puppet show.”

                Tabitha said nothing for a time, before Alex noticed tears running down her face.

                “Starchild, what’s wrong?”

                “That puppet show…somehow…they…they knew.”

                “So they knew your boyfriend treated you like shit and died in front of a train,” Alex said.  “So what?  He’s dead.  They probably wanted to mock him.  I’m glad they had you taking more initiative, though.”

                “That’s just it…” Tabitha choked out.  “I did…I killed him.  I’ve been lying this whole time…”

                Alex was taken aback for only a moment.

                “I’m listening,” Alex said.

                “He was drunk one night…I got so mad, because he wouldn’t stop calling me by the wrong name, and insulting me, so instead of sucking him off I took the dildo he kept trying to force me to use and shoved it up his ass…he got really mad and followed me to the train station, where I was going to take a ride anywhere but here…and he finally pushed me to my breaking point.  He hit me.  He actually hit me.  He told me I was the ugliest slut he’d ever seen and that he was cheating on me the whole time we were together.  So I finally lost it.  He was touching me, and I didn’t want him to.  So I pushed…and at that moment, the express came through…he fell right in its path.”

                Alex gave her a sympathetic look.

                “I’m sorry that happened, babe, but it wasn’t murder…it was an accident.”

                “But I lied!  I told the police he was drunk and he fell!”

                “He was drunk, and he did fall.  Not a lie.  And even if you had said you’d pushed him, it’d be manslaughter.  You never intended to kill him, and he was beating you up.  That’s textbook self-defence.  No jury on this earth would have convicted you.”

                “Hell’s jury just might…what if that’s why I’m here?  To be punished for what I did?”

                Alex pulled Tabitha close.

                “Then, babe, I’m gonna pull every pin out of the Priest’s head till he lets you go.  I’m gonna burn this fucking carnival to the ground.  Because I’m not leaving you here in Hell.  We’re getting out together.”

                “I feel so guilty…I feel so disgusting…I can’t believe you even want to hold me right now…I want you to hold me but I feel like such a tramp.”

                “You’re not guilty.  You’re not a tramp.  You’re my friend.  You always will be.”

                Tabitha looked up into Alex’s eyes, shutting her own as they filled with tears.

                Alex’s heart sank.  Tabitha’s eyes were red, her body was cold as ice, and she couldn’t stop shaking. 

                “It’s going to be okay,” Alex whispered softly.  “I know I can’t guarantee that…but it’s going to be okay.”               

                “What are we going to do?” asked Tabitha, as she climbed off of Alex’s lap.

                “We figure out where to go next, which will doubtless mean hitting up more attractions.  I know it’ll probably be scarring but it’s not like we have any clue about how to reach the Hell Priest and get out of here.  That old guy who gave us the box said something about ‘the answers you seek.’  So whatever those are they’re probably in here somewhere.”

                The two girls stepped outside.

                “When we get back,” Tabitha sighed, “I’m taking a long shower.”

                “Me too,” Alex agreed.

                Tabitha took out her map and looked over it.

                “There’s a Ghost Train ahead,” she said.  “It’s apparently called the Ghost Train of Forgotten Memories.  Trouble is, the map shows it’s walled off in every way except dead ahead and that the entrance is through a kissing booth.  Apparently, the ride admission is a kiss.”

                “Ugh, I don’t know if I could kiss one of those freaks…but it looks like I’m gonna have to,” Alex said, gagging.

                The two girls walked onward, passing through crowds of laughing, screaming Cenobites.  Sword swallowers devoured their blades before pulling them from their open stomachs; a pair of fetching yet mutilated ladies in black vinyl danced on beds of nails; a fire-eating clown swallowed a torch, burning himself alive as he laughed.

                “And I thought the frosh week carnival was degrading,” Tabitha remarked.

                Eventually, they made their way to the kissing booth.  It was a cheaply-made black box of a room with two separate entrances and panels out front.  There was a locked gate in the middle.

                “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, demons of all ages, to the Kissing Booth!” called the Barker, who was now manning the booth.  “In this booth, have a taste of someone a little different!  Then, ride out your best and worst memories on the Ghost Train of Memory!”

                Immediately, the Barker gestured to two Cenobites, their eyes blindfolded, to guide Tabitha and Alex to separate sides.

                “Don’t worry,” the Barker reassured.  “You’ll all meet up in the end.”

                “You have a choice,” said the Cenobites to the girls.  “Either you can kiss one of these gorgeous specimens—“

                They indicated two androgynous figures who were missing their eyes.  Their faces were covered with scars, and an unsettling hum came from their pale lips.

                “—or, you may choose to kiss a mystery person!”

                “The mystery,” both girls said.  None of the Cenobites in the line seemed terribly mutilated, and the default kissing booth Cenobite, while doubtless gorgeous by Cenobite standards, seemed unnaturally cold, as if they were already dead.

                Tabitha prepped herself.  She’d never initiated a kiss, really.  She’d let her boyfriend kiss her, but he wouldn’t stand for being kissed.  Just another way he kept control, which she hated.  Now, though, she felt like she could do it.  She was her own now, no one else’s, and so she leaned in towards the slot in the black board that separated her from the mystery kisser.

                Alex steeled herself.  She’d kissed plenty of people in her time, but this would probably be the first time she was doing it blind.  What if it was one of those guys with no lips?  What if it was someone who was decaying?

                Alex shook those thoughts from her mind.  She couldn’t be thinking like that, she knew, not if she and Tabitha were going get on the Ghost Train and hopefully find the truth.

                So without any further hesitation, she leaned into the slot and felt a soft but passionate kiss on her lips. It was warm and delicate, but there was a certain steel behind it, a feeling of desire. 

                Immediately, the board between Alex and the mystery person turned to transparent glass.

                She had kissed Tabitha.  Her best friend.

                Or more accurately, Tabitha had kissed her, with all the full passion of a lover. Suddenly, what she’d seen in the crystal ball made a lot more sense.  And she found herself kind of tempted to ask for more.

                In spite of that, both turned as red as the velvet curtains leading to the exit gate.

                “Wow, that was some passion, folks!” the Barker called.  “And now, you two may go ahead!”

                The two walked towards the Ghost Train, not sure exactly what to say to each other, their hearts racing already as they headed into a dark structure of bone and steel.

                “Wow,” Alex managed.  “I didn’t think you had that kind of fire in you…”

                Tabitha blushed.

                “I somehow knew it would be you,” Tabitha confessed.  “Because I really, really wanted it to be you.  I’ve never told you this, but…”

                “Go on,” Alex encouraged.

                “I think I love you,” Tabitha said, blushing harder.  “In fact, I know I do.  When you were holding me, back in my room…I wanted to kiss you.  I know you probably don’t feel the same way about me.  I know you’ve probably got a boyfriend to go back to, but I just am glad I got to kiss you, even if I’ll never get to do it again…”

                Alex sighed.

                “Tabitha.  Just stop.  Stand still a minute.”

                Tabitha paused and waited.

                “What is it— _mmpfh!”_

Alex had picked that exact moment to kiss Tabitha back.

                Tabitha was completely crimson.

                “I love you too, Tabitha.  And if we get out of this I’m taking you out for dinner.  Now come on, we’ve got a ghost train to catch.”

                They headed on, but Tabitha looked like she’d died and gone to heaven.


	6. Tunnel of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting crazy on the waltzers but it's the life that I choose  
> Sing about the six blade sing about the switchback and a torture tattoo  
> And I been riding on a ghost train where the cars they scream and slam  
> And I don't know where I'll be tonight but I'd always tell you where I am.--Dire Straits, "Tunnel of Love"

The Ghost Train was quite unlike any other haunted ride Tabitha had ever encountered.  For one thing, such things were almost never made of real stone.  They also usually didn’t have real flames burning, nor did they have genuine skeletons hanging around.

                They also didn’t have cars made of flesh and steel intertwined, and the cars were certainly not _alive_ , either.  As they were loaded into the cars by the Cenobite ride staff, leathery tongues of flesh extended and knotted them to their seats in lieu of a safety bar.

                “Please keep hands in feet inside the ride vehicle at all times,” the Cenobite staff intoned in unison.

                “Well, this should be fun and not at all disturbing,” Alex quipped.

                “Enjoy your suffering,” said a smiling Cenobite.  “To be young and so virginal again…”

                “If I were a guy, my erection would be gone,” remarked Tabitha.  “I mean, the leather…it’s kinda cute…but everything _else_ is a bit much.”

                She swore she caught Alex biting her lip.

                “Can I hold your hand?” she asked, smiling at Alex.

                “Of course,” Alex replied, a bead of sweat visibly rolling down her cheek.

                The train cars lurched forward into an opening set of doors carved from stone.  Ornate depictions of torture, layered in gold, glittered before fading away into the darkness of the ride tunnel.  The air was thick with smoke and dry ice, and the temperature felt oddly inconsistent, ebbing and flowing between heat and cold.  The very darkness around them was almost velvety in its nature, surrounding the young women like soft blankets of fear and anxiety.

                All around her, Tabitha began to feel something like a wind around her.  It whispered like a thousand voices, all swirling around like the hateful whispers of her classmates, hissing and purring in her ears like catlike insects.

                “Did you hear Tabitha blew her dad last night?”

                Tabitha froze.  That was the voice of Charlotte Kenny.  She was nobody important, just a girl who had pushed Tabitha around constantly when she was 12, spreading all kinds of depraved sexual rumours about her.  It really didn’t help that Tabitha would come to school bruised sometimes, with sore legs, and often wearing a t-shirt that read “Daddy’s Girl.”

                It also didn’t help that every single rumour was true…but none of it was of her own choice.

                The train lurched forward to a scene of her stepfather tying her to a bed.

                Alex pulled Tabitha closer.

                “Don’t look,” she said.  “You forgot this for a reason, Tabitha…”

                But she did look.

                And what she saw made her eyes sting with tears and her whole body begin to shake.  The whispers of Charlotte’s voice were joined by every other girl and boy who had bullied her.  She watched her father use and abuse her body until no more words came out of her mouth.  There was blood all over the bed.  The shredded remains of her clothes rained from the ceiling.

                “You’re a dirty slut,” everyone’s voices said, including her stepfather’s.

                The only person who didn’t say it was Alex, who instead held her still tighter.

                “He’s dead now…he can’t hurt you…” Alex reassured her.  “God, what I’d do to flay that bastard alive for what he did to you…”

                A faint murmuring echoed through the walls at Alex’s response.

                As the train chugged forward, spectres leapt from the walls to attack Alex.  Tabitha punched one, revealing it to be a pale teenage boy.  Another leapt out; a pale teenage girl, her face covered in ritualistic makeup, all skin and bones, strangling her.  Alex, this time, managed to fight her off.

                “Do you know these people?” Tabitha asked, quietly.

                “They’re my exes…” Alex sighed.  “They had problems…I don’t think they were really bad people, but they still hurt me.  That guy was some sad, lonely goth kid who thought everyone was out to get him.  He was so paranoid he thought I was using him, and he left me, but not before he said I was just like everyone else.  That stung, but it wasn’t anything compared to the girl…her parents had been abusing her, I think, and she got into black magic and weird, dark shit.  She wanted to, uh…well…you know what a succubus is, right?  Anyway, draining my soul into hers with her body didn’t work, so she and I got slowly strung out on drugs and it ended up killing her, but not before her wasted body tried killing me.  This was a bit after we broke up.  I know, because she’d broken into my room…and crawled out from under my bed to strangle me.  I went clean after that.”

                “God, that’s horrible…”

                “The weird thing is, she said she never hated me.  She just hated the idea of love.  Maybe she felt she didn’t deserve it or something.  She said she wanted to be me, but I was like…who’d want to be me?  I’m not anyone special.  I’m just compensating for my loneliness by acting all punk rock and shit.”

                “I don’t think you’re compensating.  And even if you are, you’re cute.  You’ve been there for me when no one else would be.  I just want to do the same for you.”

                “Thanks, Tabitha…”

                The whispering grew more intense as the train rolled forward.  The old wheels, rusted with blood and god knows what else, screeched more and more as they trundled along the ride’s rails.  Random swinging corpses hung from above, their dead limbs presenting a macabre annoyance to the girls in the train car.  Ducking and pushing past them, they tried not to squirm as they felt the dead flesh and dust brush against them.

                “Eww, gross,” muttered Tabitha.  “I’m pretty sure this is a health violation waiting to happen.  Mind you, the odds of the Cenobites _having_ a Health and Safety department are pretty low.”

                Another gruesome scene awaited Tabitha—her stepfather, painted like a clown, stood in her room, playing with the puzzle box.  Within seconds, he had solved it, and it sprung open, chains shooting into his chest, their hooks burying themselves into his flesh.  The Cenobites arrived, and dragged him to Hell, blood splattering around the room.  The little Tabitha in the room fainted from shock.

                “He got what he deserved, then…I was told he’d been in an accident…”

                “Well, he was,” Alex said.  “He accidentally learned to be careful what you wish for.”

                Tabitha giggled, but felt a bit awful about it.

                “Oh god, that’s not funny…well, okay, I guess it is a little funny.”

                The ride continued onward, and before it ended, there was a faint light, a faint glimmering beam coming down over the two girls.  For the briefest of instants, they saw their first meeting, but somehow…it was warmer.  At that moment, both girls could feel each other’s heartbeats, feel each other’s thoughts.  Even though they could still see pain in each other’s eyes, there was also the spark of something more, something brighter even than hell’s fires.

                Hope.

                Here, even in the depths of hell, was hope.  The ride itself seemed to notice, as its demonic flesh began to wither away, leaving only stone and tarnished metal.  The Cenobite operators looked concerned, but only stopped to let the two girls exit the ride as it came to a stop.

                “Okay,” said Alex, brushing a few bits of cloth and red dust she hoped was just hellish soil from her hair.  “We found out what happened to your stepdad.”

                “And I know now that he’s who I saw getting shredded in my nightmares.  The tune confirms it.  But then…now that I know, can’t I just leave?”

                “I’m afraid that things are not quite that simple,” came a voice from the shadows.

                The two girls jumped, nearly knocking over a Cenobite carrying a bag of popcorn, who grumbled irritably at them.  As they looked around for the source of the voice, they felt their blood begin to run cold.

                Striding out in regal fashion from a darkened alleyway, carrying the ornate puzzle box that had dragged them into the whole mess to begin with, was a man in leather robes who towered over them by at least a foot, if not more.  He was deathly pale, and completely bald, save for a pattern of pins driven into his skull along the lines of a neatly-carved grid.

                “You have come to the Carnival.  You have tasted its pleasures.  I am afraid, however, that you are not leaving before the final act—a three ring circus where you will face your greatest pleasures…and your most dreaded sufferings.”

                Alex spat.

                “Alright, just who the hell are y—“

                She froze.

                “Wait.  Shit. Shit, shit, shit…y-you. They told us about you. Pin--”

                A flicker of anger crossed the man’s face, almost imperceptibly, before Tabitha slapped a hand over Alex’s mouth.

                “The Priest of Hell…the Master,” Tabitha finished.

                “Perceptive as ever, Tabitha.  But come now…or come later.  It matters little.  When you face your greatest pleasures, willingly or not, you will come to me…”

                Tabitha began to shiver and tremble.

                “Already it has begun,” the Hell Priest continued, looking over Tabitha as if she were a fine sculpture.  “You shake as if God Himself had stood before you and stripped you bare, revealing your deepest sins and most buried secrets…”

                He laughed darkly.

                “And your compatriot…or perhaps, would ‘paramour’ be a more fitting term?  She has fire in her; that much is clear.  I despise the chaos in her soul, truthfully…but perhaps, if she could learn to hold her tongue and submit, she would be able to finally learn the pleasures of duty…the pleasures of punishment and control.  But I digress.  Lord Leviathan awaits a spectacle, and he must not be disappointed.”

                “Look, Priest,” Alex muttered.  “I’m a bad, bad bitch.  I don’t play nice, and I don’t go to Satan’s Sunday School.  I’m an attitude problem waiting to happen.  But I can promise you this.  You hurt one little hair on Starchild’s head over there, and I’m gonna use your ‘badge of office’ to serve you chunks of your own ass on a silver platter.”

                The Hell Priest threw back his head and laughed even harder.

                “Such spirit!  Such unbridled arrogance!  Better men and women than you have tried, Alex Summers—and they have failed!  Now, as Jesus walked the hill to Calvary, walked to his own execution, so too, you must face your judgment.  Your release is in your suffering and submission.  Follow the path to the tent, girls.  Lord Leviathan awaits.”

                Even as the Priest spoke the words, a long, one foot wide bloodstained path opened up in the deserted distance, on either side of it nothing but a deep fall into a labyrinth of winding corridors and aqueducts below.

                “They say the way to Heaven is narrow, girls.  Watch your step,” said the Priest, mockingly, as he vanished into the shadows once more.

                Swallowing hard, the two girls began to walk, knowing the worst was yet to come.


End file.
